


Dreaming of Peach Blossoms

by luvitydiary



Series: Cravity Flower Archives [2]
Category: Cravity (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, Historical, Love, M/M, Peach Blossoms, Sleeping Beauty Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvitydiary/pseuds/luvitydiary
Summary: Even in that cursed dimension that was void of time and reason,within that blank space of irrationality…Along the centuries-old peach blossoms,There was you.
Relationships: (minisong is really vague tho), Ham Wonjin/Song Hyeongjun, Kang Minhee/Song Hyeongjun
Series: Cravity Flower Archives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070597
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Tale as old as time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back with some Hamlem again :) I usually enjoy writing fluff or crack but these days, the stress got me feeling a bit more sentimental :') *looks at tags with an awkward chuckle*
> 
> wrote this it three different nights to relieve myself from stress SKSKSKS so you might notice it's kinda cut into segments like memoir entries hehe
> 
> But I do hope, you'll still find this worthwhile to read <3
> 
> //also note, their hairs in this story are those from cloud 9 era//

***

The last rays of light slowly disappear as the sky transitions from the rose-tinted dusk into the dim twilight hour.

A cloaked character wanders quietly around a desolate castle.

Aside from him, not a single soul is in sight.

The deafening quietness amplifies even the tiniest creak, the slightest sounds of movements—that even the sound of one’s breaths would have probably be heard from a distance.

But this is not the case for the cloaked figure.

He, who walks without a sound—as if he was a phantom wandering the labyrinth of this majestic but lonely place.

Past the eerie grand ballroom strewn with a thousand of shattered fragments of lavishly bejeweled chandeliers.

Through the imposing hall where opulent display cases of rare and greatly coveted treasures—now probably doomed to be lost and forgotten through the passage of time…

_Just like they are._

He had already resigned to his hopelessness—there wasn’t anything else he lives for anyway.

He was no more than a ghost now.

Mindlessly, he reached the end of the long hallway of displayed riches—stopping right at the huge stone statues of lions…

Behind it was a passage.

The figure darted through it quickly—making his way up the long winding staircase.

For the _first_ time, he decided to take a look…

…at the most valuable treasure this wretched place could ever hold.

******

The heavy door at the top of the stone staircase made a creaking sound.

As soon as the cloaked character stepped into the dark chamber, the potent thrum of magic immediately shrouded him—thick and palpable.

As if spellbound, his gaze was immediately attracted to the large outline in the center of the room—the source of all this strong magic.

There, on the huge plush bed among the velvet cushions and sheets,

lay a lone figure.

One would think it as a mere effigy carved from white marble—yet, if you must take a closer look,

You can find the faintest signs of life; the unnoticeable rise and fall of his chest, breath thin as gossamer,

_A frail heartbeat, a weak pulse._

  
  
  


Even with just the scarce remnants of light filtering into the tower’s window, the extraordinary lovely appearance of this slumbering creation is still undeniable.

Ink-black hair against the pillows, the smooth skin like jade, the overall daintiness and delicate contours of his unparalleled ethereal charms. 

_A sleeping beauty_.

Despite his bleak situation, the mysterious cloaked character couldn’t help but feel a little stir in his long-withered heart— _just a little bit and nothing more._

Maybe it was out of sympathy to this little one—an innocent bud cursed to such a wretched fate like him.

Such a beautiful flower with no one to tend to it—never to whither, but at the same time robbed of life;

_Robbed of meaning._

  
  


A flower which has lost its fragrance, its thorns, it’s autonomy,— _lost its ability to grow._

A flower robbed of everything—except of its beautiful appearance.

And, even that, is rendered useless— _for what is extraordinary beauty? When it is hidden? alone without an audience?_

  
  


Such an existence, what other words can we call it other than _‘meaningless’_?

Still, as he looked at the sleeping boy’s skin—white as the snow that began to fall outside.

He wondered, even in sleep, _can this little one still feel?_

_The cold? The regret? the loneliness?_

Without much thought, the cloaked person snapped his slender fingers. A small flame danced on his fingertips—illuminating the surprisingly young and handsome visage of the face hidden under the hood.

_Swish!_

The cloaked young man set the nearby torch alight until the room was filled by the bright warm light—staining every inch of the room with an orange tint.

A useless flower and a wandering soul who had no purpose—aren’t they a pair so _tragically_ perfect?

The cloaked young man smiled wryly.

He isn’t in the position to feel pity—as he is well aware that he is equally as pitiable.

But then, he still _does_.

He figured he can still feel sympathy—as they are both prisoners of their own destinies.

_There is a reason why their paths crossed_.

“I am Wonjin.” The handsome cloaked young man introduced—he felt the need to; even if it probably wasn’t heard by the intended party.

“Sleeping beauty,” He can only address the fair one as such.

Finally, lowering his hood—he revealed strikingly unusual blush colored hair—reminiscent of pink peach blossom flowers. 

“… I shall accompany you in your wait.”

Right there, a quiet pledge was made on a whim,

It came naturally—because it is fated.

  
  
  
  


********

  
  
  
  
  


_His name is Song Hyeongjun._

Wonjin discovered, as he had found the little beauty's diary hidden in the dresser.

(Although it does seem improper to peruse through another person’s things—but under such circumstances, propriety wouldn’t be something on the forefront of one’s mind.)

Curiosity is a very compelling thing.

He had not regretted it one bit though; as he had learned a bit about the sleeping beauty.

His eyes crinkled in amusement at the random stories—written in a neat and pretty handwriting—about this little beauty.

He loved music and is apparently an excellent dancer; loves food and eats a lot; playful yet thoughtful; mischievous yet with a sentimental side—he grew in a happy family and had a lot of cherished friends.

He was loved, therefore is also full of love.

_“He is lucky and at the same time unlucky… being able to know so much happiness makes the loneliness more unbearable…”_ Wonjin mused, before pausing to look at the sleeping prince who remains ever so still—with the fresh bundles of peach blossoms surrounding him with.

_Wonjin diligently picked them himself—just like he always does in all the past springs._

Free from the clutches of time, the beauty remained as lovely as the springtime.

_This is why peach blossoms suit him the most._

“Your name is quite pretty.” He said, despite not knowing if the sleeping prince heard him at all.

But that’s alright with him.

_He had long accepted the fact he won’t get to hear a response._

“But I’ve been calling you _‘little beauty’_ for a while now...” He said closing the diary and tucking it back where he found it.

“…I don’t think I’ll be letting go of that habit anytime soon.”

  
  


*******

  
  
  


He lost count how many summers had already passed.

“The peach flowers have already turned into fruits—and they are specifically tastier this year.” He spoke casually, as he unraveled a cloth heavy with sweet-smelling peach fruits.

It was Hyeongjun’s favorite fruit… which again, is according to the written accounts in his diary.

There are very little things he learned about the sleeping beauty, so he made sure to remember all those little details.

Because of that, Wonjin had come to love peaches too—as they were quite delicious. He’d make sure to harvest them from the peach trees that lined the back of the castle during the summer time.

“Starting today, I’ll be bringing you wildflowers instead, just until the next spring comes around—when peach blossoms are in bloom again.” He promised for what seemed to be the hundredth time already—just like the _many_ summers that came before this.

With a deep sigh he squints his eyes to look at the brightness outside.

His heart, a touch of unease.

“I wonder when…” He sighed, leaning on his elbows against the window while looking out into the horizon.

As if expecting something to appear there.

  
  
  
  


********

  
  
  
  


_Throb_

Wonjin filched and grits his teeth as stabs of pain sporadically wracked his body.

Even if they are far away, he can clearly hear the chants of the foreign wizards that had come to break the barrier.

It had been ongoing for three days and nights—without the signs of stopping soon.

There is no doubt about it; the prophecy shall be fulfilled.

He _knew_ what he had to do.

And yet, he is scared, confused, unreconciled— even if he knew that he shouldn’t be.

This cursed place isn’t any different than either Hell or Purgatory—so it shouldn’t matter anymore where he goes… right?

  
  


_But Hell or Purgatory won’t have_ **_him_ ** _there._

  
  


He smiled bitterly.

_Ah, so that is so..._ He let out a weak laugh of self-mockery—wincing at another wave of stabbing pain as he felt a spell collide against the shield.

The whole barrier rippled and a strong metallic taste filled his mouth.

Without realizing it, he ended up _hoping_ again— _dreamed_ again.

  
  


He—unknowingly—began to wish for something impossible.

three days and nights of these random episodes of agony stretched into seven days.

  
  


Once again, the boy with peach blossom hair curled himself up in the darkness.

—cradling a growing conviction.

  
  


With difficulty, he rose from his wretched position and walked— _more like staggered_ —up the now very familiar winding stone staircase;

Cursing at the heavy doors that won't easily open due to it's terribly rusting hinges.

For the final time, he looked at the sleeping boy.

  
  
  


"We will get out of this place soon." He spoke slowly.

"I guess, I must bid you farewell…my little beauty." He finally said, voice thick. "...and I'm sorry."

Wonjin felt that he had wronged this little beauty in a way—for his mere existence was Hyeongjun's prison.

  
  


As he leaned down to touch the sleeping beauty's forehead with his lips, he noticed tear drops falling into the porcelain skin.

It was his own.

Wiping them, he was finally going to set both of them free.

  
  


He climbed on the ledge of the windows; the wind frantically clawed at his clothes—as if trying to pull him away.

  
  


in the horizon, quite a congregation had gathered—some strapped up in gleaming armours and some pointy hats and flashing wands—trying to break through the barrier.

_the barrier which was connected to him._

Their purple flag danced proudly in the air bearing the insignia of the sun.

  
  


"the champion of light." he muttered.

  
  


the pupils on his eyes changed, a green inhuman color as his vision increased exponentially.

  
  


straight into the neat formations he saw _him_ —

  
  


A youth with an imposing regal bearing; brown hair glinting under the rising sun behind them—as if they are strands of gold.

  
  


for a moment, Wonjin's extraordinary eyes locked with an amber brown gaze—determined and shrewd—thought it is unlikely that the mortal had realized what had transpired.

_He was ready to do what had to be done_.

  
  
  
  


_So he jumped._

Closing his eyes, Wonjin allowed himself to free fall and unlocked the hidden seal within him.

For the first time, for as long as he remembers,

He changed into his true form;

A terror in the stories of the old;

The villain that must be slain by heroic knights in order to save the great beauties in distress.

_A dragon._

His blush-colored hair ruffled and turned to ebony, hardening until it became scales that had covered his now massive form. Enormous leather wings razor sharp as he charged into the intruders, letting a loud sonorous roar.

Wonjin figured that it’s time.

  
  


He knew he was destined to be doomed to this prison forever.

  
  


But the innocent one—he can still be saved.

He can dance again, laugh again, play again,

_to love and be loved again._

  
  


"I wish I could have seen you smile or dance or laugh..." Wonjin whispered regretfully.

Nevertheless, he charged forward.

They have waited for too long already.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*******

  
  
  
  
  
  


The door swung open with a loud creaking sound.

No trace of magic can be felt around the room anymore.

Indeed, the spell has been broken.

Weighed down by his full war regalia and exhaustion; clothes soaked with melting snow—stained with mud…

_and something scarlet._

Kang Minhee—The Second Prince of the Sun Kingdom—saw the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life.

_Sitting amidst wilting wildflowers._

At the intimidating foreigner’s presence, Hyeongjun instinctively shot out from where he sat –apprehension gripping his soft features.

But because of his weak state, the boy only stumbled clumsily—like a newborn fawn.

Fortunately, the foreign prince was quick to catch him.

And as soon as the little fawn fell into the taller’s arms, he freezes—an overwhelming wave of emptiness washed over his frail being.

_A memory._

  
  


The warmth of orange flickering over closed eyelids,  
  


The cool caress of petals, sometimes moist from the morning dew,  
  


The soft murmurs he could not understand; but has become his comfort.  
  


The words _“hello little beauty”_ repeated over and over again—it had sounded so distant—that it might as well be just a figment of his deranged mind.

  
  


_Or was it all just a dream?_

But the drops of warmth on his cheeks and that last faint touch…

… a fleeting warm sensation from his forehead that spread throughout his whole body

  
  


A quick kiss of sunlight—of orange color.

  
  


_And it’s gone._

  
  
  
  
  


_Why is it gone?_

  
  
  
  


The foreign prince watched, transfixed at the smaller boy whose eyes seem to hold the whole galaxy—yet looked so empty at the same time.

“Where…” lips that hadn’t moved for centuries parted to let out a painfully hoarse voice.

The foreign prince had no idea what the boy wanted.

_What was the boy looking for?_

No one else could understand but the pitiful boy himself.

_Where was it? Where was the very thing that had anchored him?_

The thing that kept his mind from being driven mad by the loneliness, in his long supposedly dreamless sleep.  
  


Something that made him feel he wasn’t alone.

“What are you looking for?” The prince asked.

_What was Hyeongjun looking for?_

  
  
  


_His hope, his anchor, his savior,_

  
  
  
  


**_His love._ **

  
  
  


Yes, even he could not explain it.

_Even in that cursed dimension that was void of time and reason,_

_within that blank space of irrationality…_

_He still found something so precious._

  
  


“I’m looking for…” the newly awake prince spoke.

“…the one who saved me.”

The foreign prince looked at him with a confused frown. “It is I.” the foreign prince answered.

At this declaration, the waif-like boy looked up at the taller prince—despite his fragile state, the smaller leveled him with a startling gaze that shone with utmost _certainty_.

“No.” the smaller said—clear and sure despite the slight tremble. “It is not you.”

His voice cracked at the last words as tears began to well his eyes without reason.

_…as if his heart knows what his mind does not remember._

With a shaky inhale—desperately, under the smell of frost, of leather, of iron, of sun, and of blood…

Hyeongjun tried to find it;

  
  


**_But the scent of peaches is gone without a trace._ **

  
  


*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See next chapter for [EPILOGUE] >>>


	2. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 02

***

Behind the old ruins of a long forgotten castle,

in front of a modest tombstone under the shade of a peach tree in full bloom,

The old king pondered over the sad tale of two star-crossed souls.

  
  


The scene from many years ago played back in the King’s mind. Back in the time when he was just an ambitious young prince—brilliant and bold—who had set out to conquer many lands to prove himself worthy of the throne.

So ambitious was he, that he had set his eyes on the majestic lost kingdom shrouded in mystery and untold legends.

The tale of a trapped prince and its powerful guardian.

An encounter which had changed his life forever.

  
  
  


His name spread far and wide because of such an amazing feat.

_Imagine slaying a dragon!_

This achievement had been written in history, a gold star to his name as he rightfully ascended the throne. Bards and poets had sung hymns of his heroic deed.

But Minhee never liked it.

Rather than pride, he felt it was burdensome.

  
  


Because he knew better.

  
  


Even at that time, he felt…

  
  
  


_That the dragon had wanted to die._

  
  


Minhee remembered the words the creature—no, the _boy_ —had muttered, as the dragon’s own blood stained his full lips,

_“Finally, you’re free… little beauty.”_

The relieved expression that the dragon had shown in his final moments…had left a very strong, haunting impression on the former prince.

He didn’t understand it back then; taking all the monstrous appearance and viciousness at face value.

Not everything is what it seems at first.

  
  


he understood it perfectly now...

  
  


As the old King recalled Hyeongjun’s final wish;

_“When I die, bury me along the peach blossoms of my old home.” The once bright, youthful voice spoke the request softly in a raspier tone._

He had bloomed beautifully in this life—lived a life of kindness, of grace, of beauty, and of love.

A full life; a meaningful life.

So even when the time comes that the flower must wither…

It shall wither contentedly.

_“There is someone who I have always wanted to meet.” Hyeongjun confessed—though Minhee already knows._

It seems that the long years—this whole lifetime—was still not enough to forget,

_Those peach blossom-colored dreams and a lost love._

_“Who knows…” Hyeongjun murmured, voice growing softer as tiredness gently lulls him to sleep._

  
  


**_“…Maybe this time, fate will allow it.”_ **

  
  


Hyeongjun had a look of content; of relief—a soothing serenity in his passing.

In a way, it isn’t as surprising—especially for someone who was once cursed to sleep forever...

to wait for the quiet darkness…as if it is an old friend.

In those moments, Minhee was struck by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

  
  


Remembering two different scenes in two different times—yet had held an outstanding _similar_ feeling of tranquility.

“Foolish dragon, I have battled with your ferocious form; have slain you and claimed victory…" the old king spoke with a tone neither to powerful yet to soft 

“…and yet, just the mere _memory_ of you… had left me at a loss.”

  
The prince shook his head as an expression of helplessness crossed his aged face.

“...Somewhere in his heart, a small trace of you have always remained there.”

  
  


Oddly, he felt no scorn towards the creature; only remorse… or rather, was it pity?

Yes, Minhee thought it was such a pity—a tragedy.

A cruel, elaborate scheme of fate that even in the end,

  
  


**_the sleeping beauty and the dragon never knew that they had loved each other._ **

  
  


***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I hope you liked it :')
> 
> kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading this far
> 
> -reen <3
> 
> p.s. check out my other works too :') they are happier, I promise!


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